


Thank You.

by jiminchus



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminchus/pseuds/jiminchus
Summary: Just before his eyes fell shut, Spencer could hear them. The faint sound of police sirens.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a rather chilly night, but from what the boy could see out of the small window of the basement, the skies were clear of clouds, the stars were twinkling, and the moon was bright . He drawled the thin, holey blanket up over his bare legs and let out a shaky sigh.

 

_**"STOP IT, PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU!"** _

__

The boy flinched at the woman’s screaming. He then could faintly hear rustling and then a loud thud.

 

**_“SHUT UP, YOU STUPID WHORE.”_ **

 

**_“PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!”_ **

****

The boy quickly looked away and curled into himself, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Help? What was _help_? 

 

_**“GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES.”** _

 

He tried oh so hard to pretend he didn’t hear his master’s zipper being undone or the fabric he was sure was the woman’s clothing being ripped to shreds.

 

Or the grunts, or the sounds of skin on skin, or the choked sobs that soon followed.

 

Or the woman’s last dying, gasping breath as his master slit her throat.

 

Then an eerie silence finally filled the house.

 

The boy continued to sit there in the damp, cold basement while tears silently streaming down his cheeks and into his untamed beard as he wept for his master's latest victim. He mourned for all his victims, knowing what torture he put them through before taking their lives like they had meant nothing.

 

He could hear heavy footsteps approaching the basement door, and the boy quickly wiped his tears with his shackled hands, as he was not allowed to cry. He'd be punished if master caught him, and his rear-end was already sore enough from his last punishment. 

 

The basement door swung open, banging against the wall, and the next thing the boy knew, a naked female body was tumbling down the stairs. When the body landed harshly at the bottom of the steps, he heard master snort and descend down the steps.

 

“I _**knew**_ she’d be a horrible fuck,” his master spat as if he tasted something foul, “Her hole was so fucking loose that I almost didn’t bust a nut.”

 

His master kicked her head sharply before he looked up at the boy huddling in the corner, a grin spreading across his features, “Nothing can compare to you, my beautiful pet. You’re always perfect. Always so good for me, aren’t you, Spencer?”

 

The boy, Spencer, lowered his head, avoiding any eye contact with the older man and hesitantly nodded. He heard his master chuckle.

 

“That’s right. It’s too late to take her to the lake tonight, but I’ll take her before the sunrise. Have a good night, my pet.”

 

Spencer kept his head bowed the entire time until his master trudged up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him. The young man let his shoulder sag and glimpsed at the corpse from behind his bangs. She had to be in her early twenties with long, blonde hair, blue eyes that would have been absolutely beautiful if they weren't glazed over with death. The poor girl. 

 

He scooted himself towards her body, taking the blanket he was using to cover the woman’s body, no longer able to look at her. It was just...too much. But just as he was scooting back to his spot, his hand landed in something wet and warm. Spencer lifted his hand to find it was blood. The woman’s blood. 

 

The young man sat there, his dull brown eyes fixated on the blood for god knows how long before he snapped out of his gaze and tried rubbing it clean on the already bloody flannel pants he was wearing. He returned to his spot and leaned against the wall, sighing softly.

 

Spencer sometimes wishes he was the one that was dead.

 

He frowned, rolling his head to the side to look out the window again before he closed his eyes. It was something he could relish in before he drifted off into another horror-filled nightmare. Just before his eyes fell shut, Spencer could hear them. The faint sound of police sirens.


	2. Chapter 2

The BAU was called to Tahoe City four days ago after Tahoe Police found the third victim floating in the southeast region of Lake Tahoe. The UnSub had used the same M.O. on her as the last two victims; tortured, branded with an unknown symbol, brutally raped, and then slashed their throat.

They had found the fourth victim two days ago. She was found floating not a mile from where the third was found. 

Now they had another woman missing matching the description of the UnSub’s inclination; blonde, blue eyes, mid to late twenties.

Aaron Hotchner found himself staring at the victim's portraits pinned to the clear whiteboard, deep in thought. It was clear that UnSub was getting anxious. He usually waits for another two weeks before snatching another victim. 

But, this wasn't good, as this wasn't his first killing spree. Seven years ago, five women were found in the same condition as the four new victims; raped, tortured and branded with the same unknown symbol. The UnSub disappeared without a trace and the case was abandoned, until four weeks ago when the first victim went missing and was found floating down Lake Tahoe branded with the symbol.

Why hadn't the Tahoe LEO's called sooner? If the UnSub already killed the latest victim and dumped her body, it could be another seven years before they'd see him again.

But Hotch wasn't going to let that happen. He was going to find him and bring Sarah Mullens home to her family.

In their profile, they profiled him as a white male in his early to mid-forties. He is an intelligent and organized sexual sadist who achieves sexual gratification out of torturing and murdering his victims, and he has managed to abduct his victims without any witnesses by drugging them with ketamine. He's likely been abused and sexually abused as a child, probably by his mother, and as he grew older, his desire to inflict the same pain on women that reminded him of his mother may have too. He may have committed several rapes before his first killing spree seven years ago, as 80% of sexual sadists like him have a dozen or more victims in their past but he has obviously not been convicted. He may live a normal life with a steady, middle-class job as a car salesman or something along that category.  


They were waiting as Garcia was searching through the database for any potential suspects with the information from the profile. 

"Okay, I've narrowed it down to three people."

"Name them off, Garcia," Hotch said, rubbing his chin absently.  

"There is Mark Hopkins, who possibly cannot be our UnSub because's he's already rotting in prison where he belongs for having countless amount of child porn stashed away in his computer, Adam McMillion who got arrested in 2011 for attempted rape, Josh Grier- Whoa, okay. Hold up."

"What is it, baby girl?" Derek Morgan asked, laying a file down.

"Josh Grier. When he was ten, his mother was arrested for driving under the influence with him in the vehicle. He was checked out in the hospital and they found he was sexually assaulted, but...."

"It wasn't by his mother, was it?" JJ asked, folding her arms over her chest

"...Not quite."

"Do you think he could be our UnSub?" Rossi asked.

"Well, there is more. He has juvenile records--- oh."

"Oh, what?" Hotch inquired.

"He was...arrested when he was twenty for raping and 'branding' a woman. "

And that sealed the deal for Hotch. 

"Do you have an address?"

"Sending it your way, bossman."

___________________________________________

When they approached Josh Grier's house, Hotch didn't know what he was going to expect. When they hurriedly got out their vehicles, he signaled for JJ, Emily, Rossi, and a couple of TCPD officers to head around back just in case he tried getting away. He and the others drew their guns and went straight for the front door.

"Josh Grier, open the door!" The Unit Chief shouted, pounding his fist against the door. "FBI!"

Aaron could hear someone inside scrambling about, a crash, and then, silence.

"Morgan," Hotch turned to the black male, backing away so his agent to kick down the door.

When the door was kicked down, he, Morgan, and the others rushed inside. They found Grier trying to make an escape through a side window, but Morgan was faster and caught him by his legs and dragged him out of the window before cuffing him and letting the detective yank him up.

"Where is she?" Greene growled, "Where is Sarah?"

Josh just smiled rather eerily, "She's dead."

The detective stared at him for a moment in pure disbelief before he snarled and roughly hauled him out of the house.

If what Grier said was true, they had been too late.

"Dammit!" Morgan grunted, slumping against the wall behind him. "That wasn't in his M.O.! He kills his victims four days after the abduction, not two!

"We need to search the house," Hotch began, "he may be lying to throw us off and he may have her hid somewhe-- -"

"A-Agent Hotchner!" he heard one of the officers call out, "Y-You'd better come see this! In t-the basement...uh...."

Hotch looked at Morgan with clear uncertainty before headed down the hallway and found the officer standing in the doorframe, pointing his flashlight down into the dimly lit basement.

"What is it?" He asked, but the officer said nothing, just stared with his mouth slightly agape.

Hotch nudged passed him to investigate, and he felt his heart nearly stop in his chest when he saw big brown eyes filled with absolute terror staring back up at him.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.  


“Hotch, what is it?” the dark skinned man came into view and when he looked in the direction where Hotch had his eyes trained, his eyes widened in shock. “What the _**hell**_ \-- -”

The Unit Cheif raised a hand to silence him. He cautiously climbed down the stairs and the boy noticed that he had his hand resting on his weapon holster.

Not that the boy couldn’t blame him,  however; it was probably a safety precaution.

Aaron flicked his eyes downwards and saw that a body laid at the bottom of the stairs. It was covered up with a blanket, but he could see her face through the holes.

They had been too late.

“Officer, get a crime scene unit in here,” Hotch stated, glancing back up at the boy. “And an ambulance.”  


The young man was definitely malnourished and dehydrated by looking at him. There was no telling what else could be wrong with him. He needed immediate medical attention. 

"I am Supervisory Speical Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI," he eased off the last stair, stepping around the body and towards the boy, "You're safe now. The man who has been keeping you captive is in police custody."

When he took another step closer, the boy recoiled violently with a whimper.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. May I ask you your name?" Aaron requested kindly, squatting down in front of the boy.

The boy said nothing but shook his head in response. He couldn't talk, it hurt to talk. The Unit Chief smiled softly, glancing down at the boy's shackled wrists."

"That's okay. You don't have to talk. I’m here to help you. Will you allow me to approach? We need to get those shackles off, okay?”

An expression Hotch couldn't read crossed the boy's face but he slowly nodded which made Aaron give him another gentle smile before carefully inspecting the shackles and then turned to the man on top of the stairs, “I’m going to need bolt cutters, Morgan.”

“Got it,” the dark-skinned replied and then he was gone.  


Hotch turned back to Spencer, “I’ll get you out, I prom-- -.”

He paused when he saw tears slowly roll down the boy's face, followed by a quiet sob. Hotchner frowned softly and reached out to wipe away a tear from the boy's cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm sorry I haven't posted lately. I've been working my tail off. I finally got a mini-vacation and got bored, so I decided to sit down and re-write this story. Hope you enjoy!

For some reason, Spencer felt completely safe with this man. It didn’t feel like this when he and master first met. This man, Aaron, was different, trustworthy even. When the sense of relief overwhelmed him, he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Aaron reached out and brushed away a tear from his cheek, which made him cry even harder. He was showing Spencer _affection_ , something he had been craving for years.

_**Seven long years.** _

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Aaron soothed, beginning to stroke his cheek.   


There were heavy footsteps coming down the stairs when the other man returned with the bolt cutters. "Hotch, the EMT's are here. They're bringing a stretcher."

"Okay," Aaron replied, reaching behind him to grab the cutters from his agent. 

Spencer whimpered, looking at the large instrument in his hands. The older man quickly consoled him, assuring him that they were going to help get those heavy chains off his wrists. Once the boy calmed down, Aaron quickly and effortlessly cut the chains in one swift move.

"Morgan, go ahead and send the paramedics down here. Them that there is also a body down here and to be careful."

"Is that...?"

Aaron sighed sadly, "Yeah. We were too late after all...."

The other man didn't say a word, but Spencer, even though the tears were blurring his vision, could see him frown sadly at the woman's body before moving up the stairs.

"There are going to be more people coming down here," Aaron began, making Spencer's eyes move back on him, "They're not going to hurt you. They're going to take you to the hospital to treat you, okay? I'll be with you every step of the way."

Spencer nodded carefully, biting his lip. 

"Hotch! They can't get the stretcher passed the door. It's too narrow," the other agent called down.

Aaron muttered a curse under his breath before looking back to the boy, "Can you walk?"

Spencer responded immediately with a shake of his head. One of his legs were broken. His master made sure of it when he punished him.

"I will have to carry you up the stairs then. It'll be the only way we can get you out of here, okay? Please bare with me."

One of Aaron's arms slipped underneath his legs and the other behind Spencer's back. The next thing Spencer knew he was being lifted up bridal style by the older man. Spencer cried out as pain flared up in his spine.

"I'm sorry," the man whispered, trying to console him, "I'm getting you out of here so we can get you help."

He made it up the staircase with the frail boy in his arms and they were greeted by the paramedics. They assisted Aaron by helping him lay the battered boy on the cot. The paramedics strapped the boy down on the gurney and began rolling him out of the house with Aaron right behind him. 

_**"Spencer, baby, don't worry! I'll come after you soon!"** _

Spencer fearfully jerked his head in the direction where his master was shouting. His master was being forcibly held down against a police vehicle by a couple of police officers, struggling in their grasp.

“Get him the hell out of here!” Aaron had shouted at the officers as the paramedics lifted Spencer up onto the ambulance before climbing in with them.  


Once they had the boy settled, they began to work on him. 

“He has hypotension,” one of the paramedics told Aaron, removing the cuff from around the boy’s upper arm. “Most likely due to dehydration and malnutrition. I’m going to start a saline drip.”  


The other paramedic, a woman, had used a pair of shears to cut away his shirt and flannel pants, leaving Spencer completely exposed, and putting the discarded clothes into evidence bag for the police. She examined him thoroughly, frowning deeply. The woman touched his knee and Spencer let out a yelp.

“No doubt about it that his left kneecap his broke. There is swelling and bruising around it, and honestly, from the way it looks, it may be shattered. However, he has needle tracks in both his inner elbows,” she stated, looked directly at Hotch, “Some are very recent. We’ll have to draw blood and have them to send it off for a tox screen. But I’m afraid we can’t give him anything for pain until the doctor’s get the results back....But that's not the worse of it. It looks like he's been whipped with something, a belt maybe, due to the lacerations and...they're most likely gonna have to run a rape kit on him when he gets to the hospital.”

Aaron was nodding as she told him this, rubbing his chin. He slowly shifted his gaze onto the boy, Spencer, he had learned, with an expression full of sorrow apparent on his face. Spencer _**hated**_ it. 

He jerked when he felt something wrap around his right bicep, a tourniquet, he realized. The paramedic poked around his inner elbow and he must have found a vein because he pulled out an IV catheter.

“You’re going to feel a pinch,” the paramedic told him, giving him a small smile.  


“ _ **You’re going to feel a pinch,” master said, painfully yanking his arm and jabbing the needle of the syringe into a vein before releasing the plunger and injecting whatever it was inside it.**_  


Spencer began to scream, shoving and punching at the paramedic. Both Aaron and the other paramedic scrambled to hold him down. It made it worse, however, as he began to thrash around and scream louder. He managed to knee Aaron in the gut and scratch the woman.

“Spencer, calm down,” Aaron grunted, “You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re not trying to hurt you.”  


“We’re gonna have to sedate him. He’s hysterical!” the paramedic hissed.  


“He’s just scared-- -”  


“It’s protocol, agent!”   


Aaron peered down at Spencer, who was now bawling uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. He frowned but didn’t argue any further with her. It was evident that he was suffering from some kind of flashback and it would take more than consoling to calm him down.

Besides, the boy looked completely exhausted. Both physically and mentally. Some rest would definitely do him some good to help start his recovery. 

When the paramedics had him sedated, Aaron sat back down, tired himself, and watched them finish up their work on the sleeping boy. Once they started towards the hospital, the agent moved closer to the boy and brushed away some stray hairs from Spencer’s face.

“Even when you sleep, you look terrified,” Aaron noted out loud, not petting his hair.  


Lord, what had Josh done to this boy?


End file.
